o, there ensued a series of disturbances that successfully banished
any further somnolent inclination for the night.

First our man, Eduardo, arrived, and all the animals about felt it
their bounden duty to extend to him a welcome, whence began a
simultaneous barking of dogs, mewing of cats, grunting of pigs, crowing
of roosters, quacking of ducks, braying of mules, neighing of horses,
and wagging of tongues, as I had never heard since in my childish days
we had "lived on my father's farm in the green fields of barley."

When that commotion had subsided, our host sank into slumber so noisy
that I lay there in momentary expectation of seeing the roof depart upon
a celestial journey, and I am sure it was only saved from displacement
by the rebellion of his throat causing a terrific fit of coughing. This
over, he recounted a vivid, if stupid dream he had just had, and then
once more came restful silence.

It was not to last long, however, for in the early dawn a neighbor rode
over to help kill a pig, but after a lengthy debate, it was decided that
_manana_ would do as well.

By this time the farm world was astir, and we were not long in
following suit. So, tired, dirty, still damp from yesterday's rain, I
arose to meet the trials and tribulations of the third day.

Two little facts came to my knowledge before our simple breakfast, which
gave a new color to my thoughts and revived my drooping spirits.

One was a prospect of absolute cleanliness, for Vincent told me they had
a bathroom in their house, a luxury I must confess I had not expected to
find in a small village in interior _Honduras_.

At _Amalapa_ I had most regretfully said good-by to two good steamer
friends who were going to the capital by another road, and one which led
through _Pespire_, the little village we had passed the previous
afternoon.

As good luck would have it, Eduardo, in his wanderings, had gone to a
sort of agency there to inquire if we had been seen, and had found a
letter for me, left by one of the two travellers who had preceded us.
Surely never a communication from the dearest friend I had ever had was
quite so eagerly seized and devoured as was this brief note, which came
to me like a refreshing glimpse of the world I had known. Heaven bless
the writer for his kindly inspiration!

At eight o'clock we were again mounted, and had said good-by for ever, I
trust, to _San Juan_. Oh, mockery of names! Meanwhile my companion had
informed